


Once Upon A Christmas

by ladyluckrogue



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5572408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyluckrogue/pseuds/ladyluckrogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are all written for the Advent Calendar Theme Challenge for the We're Just Saiyan Community. None of these are connected in anyway and are just meant to be short drabbles centered around Bulma and Vegeta. For a list of the themes and more info, please check out the community on Google :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon A Christmas

AN: Hey all...these are all written for the Advent Calendar Theme Challenge for the We're Just Saiyan Community. None of these are connected in anyway and are just meant to be short drabbles. For a list of the themes and more info, please check out the community on Google + :)

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or anything else affiliated with it. My stories are written for pure entertainment purposes. Please don't sue.

Theme 1 Hot Chocolate:

The taste was dark, cloyingly sweet and bitter on his tongue. There were hints of something spicy he couldn't identify and he wasn't quite sure if it was palatable.

"Before you even think about spitting that out, remember it costs over a hundred Zeni an ounce." The blue haired woman across from him on the patio warned, barely glancing up from her laptop. "Mother would be heartbroken."

Vegeta glared at the blue haired harpy for daring to assume she knew what he was thinking about doing. He wondered for a moment just who he hated more, her or her air headed mother. At least her mother fed him.

The freak snow shower had prompted the mad blonde woman into frenzy. It seemed she felt the need to cook and bake up a flurry of seasonal treats for the occasion. As he'd come into the house for a quick snack, he'd been more or less forced to take a seat on the glassed in terrace to enjoy what she'd called a 'rare treat'. He was nearly positive he'd fought vehemently against the offer but somehow the promise of food beyond his wildest imagination had lured him into the current predicament he was in.

The blue haired demon, he assumed had also been lured from the solitude of one of her labs by some similar trick. Bulma glanced at the clock on the wall before shutting her laptop and stretching. She gazed out at the snow falling and his gaze was drawn to the same. He'd seen snow on many a planet and wondered why everyone made such a fuss about it. It made things cold and miserable. And yet the ordinarily harried woman seemed soothed by it.

The almost peaceful moment was broken as a blonde whirlwind moved into the room with an array of baked goods and delicacies. The sound of his own stomach growling and the tantalizing odors even drowned out the scolding he received for barely touching his hot chocolate.

Theme 2 Fruitcake

"Oh honey, we got those as a gift. Not a very well thought out one, mind you, but that doesn't mean you have to eat them. I was going to bring them down to the food bank." Bunny Briefs twittered as her daughter cut another slice of supermarket fruitcake.

It was the sort that came with a pretty package but it wasn't necessarily palatable. Bulma took another slice and took a bite with a shrug. "I don't know mom. I hate fruitcake usually but I cant seem to get enough…" Her hand moved down to the curve of her stomach that was starting to show.

Bunny nodded, understanding but she seemed decidedly hurt that her daughter seemed to be enjoying the cake more than her famous Christmas cookies.

Her chagrin didn't last long and her smile brightened as a certain Saiyan made his way into the kitchen in search of food. After a decidedly scathing look in the direction of the fruitcake, he was bombarded by trays of cookies and pastries.

Bulma could only smile. At least she was sure that she wouldn't run out of her new found favorite treat.

Theme 3 Festive

The lights of the city, far more than usual, seemed to beckon to him. He could feel the all to familiar burn, the itching of his palms, the roar for blood that he could barely keep in check.

It was in his nature, in his upbringing, programmed into him since he'd had a conscious thought, to lay waste to such places. It had once been a thrill. How many times had he surprised beings on countless planets in cities such as this? Festivals had made it all too easy. Minimal effort for maximum destruction.

And yet, here he found himself moving into the city, mixing among the citizens without the goal of destruction. It was strange, novel really.

Despite the cold damp weather, thousands were on the streets taking advantage of the later opening times to do their gift shopping and enjoying the food and drink stands. There were a thousand smells that greeted his nose. Food, alcohol, sweat, shampoo, perfume. It was nearly overwhelming and he felt uneasy. People laden with shopping bags pushed passed him, as if he were just another one of them, not realizing that he could decimate them in the blink of an eye.

He was anonymous, no one. A hand gripped his arm and it took everything in him not to retaliate despite knowing who it was.

Her blue hair was tucked under a knit hat and her nose was red from the cold. Her eyes twinkled in excitement. This was her world not his.

"Come on Vegeta. Its just a Christmas market. It wont kill you." Bulma teased as she pulled him toward the gaudy festivities.

That odd feeling of anxiety crept back in as he pushed past the people and he thought she very well may be wrong.

Theme 4 Clove

"There's something missing…" Bulma said out loud, reading over the recipe again and again. She'd miscalculated something. Ok, when she was honest, many somethings.

"No mom, they're great, really." Her 8 year old son said rather unconvincingly, probably trying to make her feel better for her failed attempt at doing something as normal as baking cookies.

She glanced to Trunks, seeing his strained smile. The milk mustache he'd forgotten to wipe away betrayed he'd only been able to choke down the charred cookie with the help of his entire glass. It amazed her sometimes, given who his parents were that he was such an astoundingly bad liar. Went to prove she had at least done some things right.

Bulma reread the recipe and her eyes lit up as if she'd just invented the most spectacular creation the universe had ever seen. "Cloves!" she hurried to the spice rack and in a flurry began mixing a new batch. Trunks sighed, knowing he should probably stay to make sure the kitchen didn't burn down.

As Vegeta walked into the kitchen, he surveyed the mess. From the look on his face it was almost as if he were disgusted at the carnage he saw before him. Bowls, egg cartons and flour as well as splashes of batter here and there marked Bulma's efforts. A plate of charred cookies and a carton of milk sat on the table.

Vegeta picked up one of the cookies, seeming to weigh the pros and cons of eating it, seeming to decide if it was really worth the risk. He barely managed to choke it down and Trunks held out a glass of milk.

"Cloves." He said helpfully as his father drained the glass. "That's the missing ingredient. The next batch'll be better."

Trunks had only said the words to please his mom, the look between father and son said it all. There was nothing that would improve Bulma's baking ability.

Theme 5 Evergreen

"There." Bulma seemed to glow with self satisfaction as the last ornament was hung on the tree. Her mother fussed moving from one part of the tree to another to straighten ornaments but it was done.

Taking a seat next to Vegeta on the couch, she nudged him lightly, directing his attention away from the magazine he seemed to be reading out of self preservation. A house full of people and all the action of decorating the Christmas tree was definitely not his scene.

Her father had moved over to the tree to examine a string of lights that hadn't lit up. Her mother's fussing was background noise as Bulma focused her attention on her husband.

"Another Christmas." Her smile was full of nostalgia. Vegeta grunted in agreement.

"Tree looks beautiful this year doesn't it" this earned a shrug.

"At least we can hang the glass ornaments this year. Bra is old enough to know not to break them." Vegeta seemed to consider saying something as Trunks and Goten rushed into the living room, laughing, a furious 3 year old hot on their heels.

"Give it back now!" Bra demanded, chasing the boys into the living room just as Dr. Briefs was about to plug the lights in. The little girl tripped over the wire, causing a chain reaction which ended in a crash, the tree coming down, glass ornaments and all.

In the moment of shocked silence before the chaos, Vegeta opened the magazine again, giving Bulma a glance. "You were saying?"

Theme 6 Boots

Bulma checked another machine, ensuring his vitals really were stable before breathing a sigh of relief.

Seeing Vegeta hooked up to tubes and wires was an odd sight. A man as strong as he was shouldn't have to be dependent on machines. The latest accident though had nearly been enough to kill the proud warrior and she wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps that was his goal.

Her machine had held up to the strain this time around but not the proud warrior. The gravity had simply been far too high. She'd already made adjustments and programmed extra safety features into the gravity machines main controls to prevent the same thing from happening.

Moving toward him she realized in all the chaos the past few hours, no one had thought to remove his boots. He'd taken to wearing tennis shoes more often then not but for some reason had chosen to wear his boots today.

She was surprised by the texture of them as she pulled them off his feet. A quick survey told her that his feet hadn't suffered any injuries and her attention turned back to the material. They felt almost like leather but she knew that they could stretch and shrink on demand. And they seemed to have been standard issue. Many of Frieza's troops had worn similar from what she'd seen on Namek. She examined them and despite the many scuffs and scratches, the worn sole, they were well taken care of. She wasn't surprised. Vegeta was meticulous with his clothing.

Turning them over in her hands, an idea came to her. She was anxious to analyze the material itself but perhaps in doing so, she could replicate it. Vegeta had adamantly refused to take part in any of the Christmas festivities and wanted no part in the gift exchange.

She seriously doubted he'd turn down a new pair of boots though.

Theme 7 Reflection

The scene before him was odd and he felt as if he should be a part of it, as if he were tarnishing it. The woman had mentioned it in passing but hadn't insisted he show up. He wasn't quite sure why he had. This was their tradition, not his.

Vegeta saw as his son tore into the wrapping paper with an expression of excitement and joy, shouting as he held up the giving. Oohs and aahs echoed around the room from the woman and her parents.

He knew the idea of a gift but wasn't quite sure what the catch was here. There had always been one. He himself had never gotten a gift as a child. There were occasional rewards he supposed for some missions but they had always come with conditions.

Perhaps here was a way to prove who had been better at gift giving? A monetary catch? He wasn't sure.

His thoughts were interrupted as he felt a tug on his sleeve. His son held something he'd obviously wrapped himself. The paper was torn and bunched in places. He hesitated and Trunks nearly shoved it into his hands, grinning.

He seemed more excited giving the gift then he had receiving the other ones and Vegeta wasn't sure what the etiquette dictate he do. He had no choice but to open it under the watchful scrutiny of the room as the 6 year old before him shifted from foot to foot.

"I made it in school…" Trunks had gone from excited to nervous and he glanced at the floor. Vegeta held a slightly misshapen coffee cup in his hands. It was blue and trunks had obviously written the word 'papa' on it himself. To be honest it was fairly ugly.

In a moment though, he realized that there was no catch. His son was not expecting anything in return. In fact he seemed to expect the worst. Vegeta felt an odd sensation in his chest. The boy was growing into a sap on a soft planet. He didn't have a manipulative or conniving drop of blood in his body. He would destroy anything or anyone that sought to change that.

"Place it in the kitchen. I'll drink coffee from it later." He assured trunks. He turned to leave, to train. He was thinking to much and he needed to feel the roar of battle in his veins. Otherwise he was going to turn into a sap just like them.

Theme 8 Eggnog

Vegeta hated the event. It was always the same. Bulma had assured him that it was necessary to running her company. Moral of the employees or some such explanation.

Needless to say it was the same every year. A venue would be rented, a Christmas tree and decorations would be hung up and all employees would show up and eat and drink to their hearts content.

And every year he would show up, staying back from the festivities and dancing to watch Bulma give her annual speech, applauding the achievements and hard work of the company's employees. They drank it up like the martinis they were sipping, applauding but really the company was only a success because she ran it, her and her father. Without them, they didn't have enough charisma and intellect between them to make it such a success.

He would never tell her such a thing. Her ego was inflated enough as is.

The applause had died down and the music had started back up. He saw Bulma approaching him. She had an uncanny ability to be able to track him down every year. Or perhaps he was loosing his touch and becoming too predictable.

She approached him seeming to teeter a bit on the ridiculously high heels she'd bought to match the gown she wore. It was a brilliant blue seemed nearly painted on. He kept his face neutral, lest he show the effect she had on him there would be time for that later. Glass in hand, she tripped, reaching out to catch herself, hand gripping his shoulder.

Or perhaps not, the eggnog in her glass smelled strongly of rum and he wrinkled his nose. "A few too many?" He asked as she gained her footing.

"As if." She scoffed, finishing off the glass. "Damn shoes."

He tried to shrug her hand off but she was persistent as she leaned into him. "How was the speech?"

"Same as every year. Your drunk." He pointed out.

"Tipsy at most." She admitted. "So it was brilliant right? I mean it's not every year that we can claim number one in the world and make over 30 billion Zeni right?"

"Nearly. Though your peons had little to do with it." He admitted.

She beamed at him, leaning in for a kiss, her eyes twinkling. "Care to dance with me?" she teased, knowing damn well what his answer would be.

"Don't hold your breath."

She mock pouted and turned to leave. "One of these days you'll say yes." It seemed like a threat coming from her and he eyed her suspiciously as she laughed, sashaying away.

Perhaps he'd stay after all, if only to keep her away from the eggnog.

Theme 9 Fleece

"What in the hell are you wearing?" Vegeta demanded as he glanced to Bulma. His expression was something between disgusted and horrified. She'd just come from finishing a few things downstairs.

Bulma sent him a scathing look. "It's freezing in case you haven't noticed and these are warm."

The fleece pj's she wore were blue with white snowflakes. Ok, maybe they were a bit childish but it was true. They were warm and comfortable. And really she'd expected the reaction. That didn't mean she had to like it. Hell, she was Bulma Briefs. If she decided trash bags were all the rage to wear, millions of women would follow.

Leave it to Vegeta to not get it. he probably hadn't noticed the chill given how warm he usually was. Not to mention he found pajamas trivial. He tended to either sleep in his underwear or nothing. Tonight was the latter given that he was fresh out of the shower. Doing her best not to glance at him she crawled into bed, her back to him.

He was almost predictable. He reached to touch her, his hand moving over her hip. "If you're cold you could have said something."

She hid her smile. "Oh?" she turned to face him in the dim light. "If you think your going to get any after dissing my pajamas, you've got another thing coming."

His eyes were dark, shining with amusement. Damn, he was reading right through her.

"I never said a word." He pointed out.

"You didn't have to. Your scathing look said it all."

"You aren't even angry. You know damn well you think they're ugly as well." Bulma swatted at him.

"Now I'm angry…" she assured him. Her concentrated effort to seemed angry failed as his lips moved over hers.

Bulma came to the conclusion that they might be ugly but she still looked hot in them, and even Vegeta wouldn't deny that.


End file.
